The boys freeze and sit up, confused. They're in complete darkness, and all they can hear is the faint rumble of thunder from outside.

"The power was probably cut by the storm," Kurt whispers and rises, holding his hands in front of him, stumbling blindly for the door. He can hear Blaine breathing heavily from the bed and he walks in the general direction of the stairs, bumping into something. "Ouch."

"Are you alright?" comes Blaine's concerned voice from the darkness.

"Yeah. Just my dresser."

The door creaks open and a dim light hovers from above.

"Kurt?" Burt calls out.

"Yeah Dad I'm right here."

"You and Blaine alright?"

"We're fine. What's happening?"

"The storm must have taken out the power. And we're out of batteries. So we're just going to have to deal with candles until tomorrow. We should all be getting into bed anyways," Burt says grimly. "Kurt, you come up and get some candles and prepare the couch for Blaine."

Kurt groans but moves toward the light, his father's face appearing in the glow of a candle. He takes the candle from his father and hands it to Blaine, who hovers behind him. "Go get changed. Use this to see." He instructs, gently pressing the candle into Blaine's hand. "Careful you don't burn yourself honey." He says softly.

He sees the faint form of Blaine nod and take the candle, using it to light his way to the bed where the clothes Kurt had handed him are laid out.

With a sigh, Kurt follows his father and closes the door behind him. The living room and kitchen are faintly lighted with the glow of multiple candles, casting shuddering light over the dark room. Finn is carefully carrying a couple to his room and Carole is in the kitchen lighting some more. When Kurt approaches, she hands him a plate of candles.

"Go put these in your room sweetie and grab Blaine. You both should be getting some sleep. I've put a couple of clean blankets on the couch. We're off to bed but don't take too long. Remember, he has school, even if you don't." She instructs firmly but kindly. "Make sure you blow out the candles before you go to sleep. Do you need anything else?"

"No thanks Carole. Goodnight."

"Goodnight sweetheart."And with that she grabs a couple of candles of her own and follows Burt up to their bedroom.

The house is silent except for the rain pounding against the windows. It thuds steadily against the window, a soundtrack on an endless loop, broken by sporadic rumbles of thunder. It resonates in the quiet of the house and Kurt can't help but want to stand and listen to it forever. But he wants Blaine to listen with him. He carefully holds the candles and goes to his room, eyes on the stairs to make sure he doesn't trip on his way down, but moving silently in hopes of surprising Blaine. The thunder claps loudly and Kurt's heart flutters involuntarily and he tightens his hold on the candle, gripping onto the railing and pausing, as if the thunder clap could push him off. Steadying his heartbeat, he peers in the room and sees the faint form of Blaine. His back is turned and Kurt moves closer, watching as an oblivious Blaine lifts his shirt over his head and throws it on the bed.

Getting ready to scold Blaine on the treatment of his clothes but eager to see his boyfriend shirtless for the first time in months, Kurt moves closer, holding the candle out.

And freezes.

Unable to stop himself, he gasps, causing Blaine to spin around. His eyes widen when he sees Kurt and he looks blindly for a shirt but it has fallen to the floor. It doesn't matter anyway. The damage has already been done.

Kurt knows.

A soft hand on his shoulder stops Blaine's movements and the younger boy stands stiffly, looking in the darkness behind Kurt as he feels eyes roam across his torso.

The candlelight flickers and dances across Blaine's bare skin, shedding light on the many bruises and discolorations that stain the tan. Even in the dim light they are clear, and Kurt's heart constricts as he imagines how they'll look in the daylight. Bruises that splash across his ribs and up to his chest, where healthy skin is barely visible. A careless splatter of awful color on the usually beautiful canvas of Blaine's skin. Kurt's fingertips softy touch Blaine and he watches as Blaine's chest rises and falls, the steady pattern interrupted every so often by small spasms accompanied by a slight hitch of Blaine's breath. The cry of bruised ribs that had been ignored for much too long. Kurt's panicked eyes rise to Blaine's shoulders where more mar the skin and a couple of fresh and old scratches and raw patches peek out, angry red welts taunting him as they creep across his boyfriend's body. And Kurt knows that if he made Blaine turn around he would see more painful scars on his back because Kurt knows exactly where one might get those scratches. He knows how they're caused. Doesn't even have to think about it.

They are caused by being slammed repeatedly against a locker.               

After all, they once used to stain his skin. Now they stain that of his boyfriend, who shivers slightly underneath his eyes.

Blaine exhales, his breath shakes as it leaves his lungs, "Kurt..." He'd closed his eyes as Kurt's scorching eyes had blazed across his skin, setting it alight and crackling without even burning him. He knows tears are welling in Kurt's beautiful blue eyes, and he'd rather be shoved into a hundred more lockers and slushied a million more times than have to watch Kurt cry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, he thinks as he squeezes his eyes shut, I can never do anything right. I just make people unhappy. You weren't supposed to find out like this. You were never supposed to find out. He can feel himself trembling, but it isn't cold, and Blaine wishes he was like Alice, shrinking and shrinking and shrinking before she finally disappears into Wonderland.

Ripping his gaze away from his boyfriend's ravaged skin, Kurt moves his fingers to Blaine's cheek, brushing away the tear that had trickled down involuntarily, making hazel eyes open to meet his own, which  instead of being panicked, sad, or even angry,  are calm. Taking a deep breath, he speaks carefully, as if trapping words and thoughts that threaten to spill through, "We are going to talk about this in the morning. You need to sleep." He bends down slowly and grabs the white t-shirt, handing it to Blaine, who slips it on quickly. Kurt turns around as he does and he clasps his hands in front of him. They tremble softly and his heart beats rapidly, almost painfully, in his chest.

Then it's silent. A silence that seems to enjoy being unbroken.

"Kurt..."

"Stop it Blaine. Just please, stop this." Kurt replies shakily. "I just  can't... wha... how..." He swallows. "I can't." And with that he moves away and rises up the stairs.

Blaine follows him and settles down on the couch.

"No. You have to take the bed. You'll hurt your back more."

"The couch is fine. I'm fine Kurt."

"No you're not! Have you taken a look at yourself? Because that's sure as hell not fine." Kurt snaps, his composure cracking.

"Please Kurt," Blaine pleads. "Just let me sleep here."

Kurt runs his fingers through his hair but doesn't argue further. There are so many thoughts and emotions spinning through his head, he feels he might explode. But instead of doing that, he helps Blaine make himself comfortable, pushing him back and tucking pillows around him, and covering him in blankets. Once or twice he sees Blaine wince as he shifts and Kurt just bites his lip. How could he not have noticed this before?

"Kurt."

Kurt sighs, "Yes Blaine?"

"Are you mad?" Blaine quietly replies in a small voice.

His heart breaks and he kneels beside the couch, kissing Blaine's forehead, brushing the curls from his face with light fingertips. "No I'm not... Just get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning." He leans down to kiss him, brushing his lips lightly against his boyfriend's warm skin. Every move he makes is gentle and hesitant, as if he's afraid Blaine will shatter into a thousand shards and disappear into the fluttering dark.

Then he pulls away and blows out the candles, moving slowly back to his bedroom.

Blaine's voice rises out of the darkness, "I love you."

Kurt hesitates, heart constricting tightly, "I love you too. Goodnight Blaine."

"Goodnight, Kurt."

Kurt disappears into his room, and changes into his pajamas. Not even bothering with his moisturizing routine he crashes onto his bed. The smell of Blaine still lingers on the pillows and he watches the candlelight flicker for hours, the small flame fluttering and twisting, the wax sliding down the candle in tiny drops. The wisp of light moves in front of his eyes, the darkness giving it a stage to dance on.

Confusion.

Betrayal.

Guilt.

Concern.

Fear.

Love.

Anger.

Hurt.

Guilt.

A thousand thoughts, a thousand feelings, and a million questions tear him apart as he lies motionless for hours. It's impossible to sleep. Exhausted but restless. He just keeps watching the little flame dance, wondering whether it would be happier if it had a partner. Wondering what would happen if they burned each other. Wondering whether they even could. Wondering what would happen to the little flame if its partner was blown out, disappearing into insignificant little wisps of smoke. A fist cruelly squeezes his heart.

Thunder claps loudly outside as he slips out of bed, the now much shorter candle lighting his way. Kurt warms some milk and drinks it slowly, watching the rain from the window.  The night outside is even darker and lightning flashes, illuminating the room with white light for a fleeting second and Kurt watches the windows cry and listens to the sounds of the storm, a lullaby that can't seem to sing him to sleep.

He just wants to make it all okay.

Putting the mug in the sink he quietly walks into the living room and kneels beside the couch where Blaine is fast asleep, breathing deeply, lips slightly parted. He smiles at his peaceful expression and watches him fondly, his fingers lightly stroking the rain-cleaned curls that are still a little damp at the roots.

The last time he watched Blaine sleep was after their first time.

Blaine sighs in his sleep, shifting slightly. He mumbles and breathes in soft puffs, eyelashes curling onto his cheeks. God he's so beautiful. Kurt's heart constricts and he smiles softly, and he leans closer to Blaine, breathing in his warm, achingly familiar scent and pressing his lips to his forehead, feeling Blaine exhaling softly into his neck. He pulls away but stays close, tracing Blaine's features with careful eyes. Memorizing them again. And again. And again.

Watching Blaine sleep was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes.

Thunder roars outside and he almost laughs at how deep in slumber Blaine is. He sits up straighter and studies him in the flickering candlelight, trying to find some sort of clue. Some sort of hint. After a while, it's like a fog before his eyes clear and he can really see Blaine.  See how tired he looks. See how sad he is. See the creases in his brow. See the dark circles under his eyes. How long has it been since he's slept? Kurt thinks concerned. He hears Blaine wheeze uncomfortably as he sleeps, a small cough interrupting his peaceful breathing, sending a flash of pain across his face.

Blaine whines, "Kurrrt, I'm not going to break."

Kurt bites his lip and feels tears sting his eyes as he hears Blaine voice in his head.

"I'm not going to break."

"I'm not going to break."

"I'm not going to break."

Blaine's voice chants in his head. A never ending loop of the same five words. Over and over and over.

No you're not going to break Blaine.

 Because you can't break something that's already broken.

Kurt's eyes roam down Blaine's body, where the blankets have slipped to his waist. Kurt's fingers gently graze over the bare skin of his arm, where faint bruising is visible that he knows continues underneath the white shirt. He stares at the discoloration for a long time and sees the imprints of where fingers have gripped too tightly in the dim candlelight. After a while he realizes that tears are streaking down his cheeks and he wipes them away quickly. He pulls up the blankets, tucking Blaine in securely. All he wants is to cradle him in his arms and forget all of this and just tell him that everything's okay.

But it's not.

"Who did this to you?" he whispers brokenly to the silence. "And how didn't I know?"